The Hells I've Been Through
by LissaAnn
Summary: AU 4x21 "When The Levee Breaks" spoilers! Sam's detoxing in Bobby's panic room and things don't go well.


**A/N:** This story was written for the summer_sam_love challenge over on LiveJournal. This is the first time I'm posting on , and I'll admit, I'm a little nervous. Hope you guys like it!

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Sam Winchester had been through hell; there was no doubt about it. But kicking this demon blood habit was a very close second. Of course he was angry. Dean didn't understand that this wasn't something he _wanted_ to do; it was something he _had_ to do if they had any chance of surviving the fight with Lilith. No, Dean thought Sam was some kind of common drug addict, blood instead of heroin.

The truth was, though, it _did_ make him feel strong. Each and every time he drank, he felt this power race through him. Power enough to pull even the most difficult demons. Power to kill Alistair, end his brother's anguish in seeing him again. As always, he really was doing this for his big brother, Dean. Isn't that what he did?

Sam wasn't really sure how long Dean had known. He kicked himself for drinking that demon's blood in front of him, it was just that in order to deal with all of the demons around them, he needed the strength. Dean had already seen that he hadn't been able to dispatch the demon at the Novak's home and he couldn't let that happen again.

They headed towards Bobby's, answering the older hunter's phone call to "haul ass up here". Dean seemed weird in the car – no condemnation, no threats of kicking his ass, nothing but disappointment and…was that resignation he saw in Dean? Sam shook his head. It had been a long night for everyone involved; right now, Sam just wanted a soft bed and a pillow, which he knew awaited him at Bobby's. Sam bet Dean was feeling the same way. But that was the whole thing, wasn't it? He _didn't_ know how Dean was feeling. They'd been headed in this direction for a while, but Sam never thought they'd _actually_ get there.

So Sam was blindsided when the two other hunters led him into the panic room then closed the door behind them, leaving Sam isolated and alone. "Guys?" he began in a panicked voice. "Guys, this isn't funny!"

As soon as the door closed and Dean left, the panic overtook him. He began to sweat. The room felt like it was closing in on him. Nowhere to go. Trapped, caged, locked up like he was an animal unable to control his actions. He _could_ though. He _would_, just as soon as Lilith was dead.

He sat on the bed, waiting for the sensations to pass. This couldn't be that hard. So he'd spend a few hours in here, Dean would come to his senses and then they'd go back out searching for Lilith. He could wait Dean out. Sam looked at his watch. It was now 10am. He figured that by 3pm or so, Dean would realize he'd taught Sam his lesson.

But all of a sudden, sitting on the bed became next to impossible. He was restless, agitated, needed to _move_. He felt like he was starting to suffocate, even though the fan on the ceiling was slowly turning, letting fresh air in. He paced as much as he could, long legs eating up the space in just a few steps, which only served to frustrate him even more. He sat down on the bed and took some deep breaths, trying to pull his frazzled nerves together. _It's just a few hours,_ he told himself. _Just relax._

Sam searched his brain for something he could do to keep his mind occupied. If only he could get into Bobby's library, get a couple of books he could study, he could do this. He started to recite his Latin incantations, but midway through he started to become confused and lost his place. He tried to start over again and lost track even sooner than the first time.

Panic began to overtake him again. He could feel the sweat on his forehead and running down his neck, shivers running through him as the fan twirled around him. _Something is not right,_ his mind supplied him.

He couldn't clearly see his watch anymore, so he wasn't sure just how much time had passed. Dean would come down and check on him, wouldn't he? He wasn't just going to leave him down here ignoring him. But this blurry vision moved from panic to fear. "Dean!" He noticed his hands shaking and tried hard to stop it, but the tremors just moved up his arm and into his torso. "Dean!" he screamed, wondering if Dean and Bobby could even hear him. The tremors began to move from his hands up into his arms and his legs began to shake. He sat down on the bed to make sure he didn't land on the ground. After he sat, he saw the water pitcher over on the table halfway across the room. He wasn't sure he could walk his way over there but fell to his knees and crawled. His mouth was so dry, he needed a drink. He gulped the water down greedily until it was gone, and he was still thirsty. He prayed that Dean would come down and check on him soon.

He made his way slowly back to the bed and lay down. He continued to shake and feel restless, unable to take deep breaths. He had to close his eyes as he looked up, the small shaft of light coming through the ceiling hurting his eyes with its brightness.

As he tried to concentrate, trying to keep his mind occupied, he heard a familiar voice.

"Why, Sam?"

Sam tried to sit up and look around the room, only to feel his stomach lurch, not only because of the sudden movement, but because of the memories that voice brought. "Jessica?" he asked unable to believe she was here. "Jessica, what are you doing here?" He knew Jessica was dead. He knew he wasn't that out of it.

But there she stood, lovely as ever, in one of the slinky nightgowns that Sam had bought for her. "Why, Sam?"

"Why what?" he answered.

"I loved you, Sam. I loved you more than I could ever tell you. Why did you let me die? Why have you done this to yourself?"

Sam began to cry. "Jess, you have no idea. No idea what I've been through, no idea what I've had to face."

"Of course I do, Sam. I've been watching over you. I've always been here with you."

"No. "

"Yes, Sam. I've seen everything that's happened. I saw Dean almost die, I saw your father die, I saw _you_ die. I was waiting for you to come to me."

"I was going to come find you, Jess, I swear. I just…didn't have a chance."

She smiled. "I know. And it's okay, I understand. But I don't understand why you've done what you've done."

"I've done what I've needed to do. For my mom. For you. For Dean. Can't you understand?"

Jess moved over towards him, putting her arms around him. "This has gone too far, Sam. It was never supposed to go like this."

"I need…I need…"

"I know, Sam. But you can't." She got up from the bed. "I need to leave now, Sam, but please. Know that this isn't your fight. Listen, really listen, to what's being said."

"It's not Dean's fight! He's not strong enough!"

And Jess vanished.

He lay back down, trying to process what had just happened. It couldn't have been her. But she'd known everything that had happened! He closed his eyes again and felt the tremors run through him.

Once his eyes were closed, though, he could feel something on his arms. Something _crawling_ on his arms. He opened his eyes, bringing his arms up, not able to see anything, but feeling like there were bugs crawling all over him, adding to the tremors. No matter how much he tried to focus his mind, he couldn't get the sensation to leave him.

"Samuel."

He would know that voice anywhere. As if the tremors weren't enough, he shivered.

"Is this how I raised you? Is this what I taught you?"

"Dad, wait. I can…"

"You can explain? You can explain to me why you let your brother go to hell, why you're not working with him, but you're working with a demon, why you're drinking demon blood!"

"I had to," he told John. "I had to do it."

"No, Sam. When did my son start working with, start trusting a demon?"

"I don't trust her."

"You sure as hell act like it. You act like you trust her more than you trust Dean."

"Dean doesn't understand."

"Dean shouldn't HAVE to understand! You let him down. You let US down!"

"DON'T!" Sam screamed. "DON'T SAY THAT TO ME! I DID EVERYTHING I COULD!" Tears were pouring down Sam's face. "I did…," then the tears overtook him, making him unable to speak.

"I always knew you were the weak one, Sam." Sam sobbed as his father berated him. "I'm disgusted with you. Never should have brought you hunting."

"You don't mean that. Tell me you don't mean that."

"I wish I could. You deserve everything that happens to you." With that, John vanished, leaving Sam distraught.

Sam couldn't let go of what his dad had said to him. Is that what his dad truly thought of him? The words played over and over in his head.

Until the one person he really hoped would not appear arrived. Sam was startled – he didn't hear the opening or closing of the door. Regardless, there was Dean, standing to the side of him. "Why did you do this to yourself? Right. Killl Lilith, the big excuse. But why? Revenge? Revenge for what? Sending me to hell? Did you happen to notice I'm back? Alive and kickin'. So what's the point?"

"How 'bout stop the damn Apocalypse?"

"My gig! Not yours. The angels said so, remember? God picked me, man. So you got any other fantastic excuses?" He paused and walked around the bed. "I know why you really drink that blood, Sam."

"Please, just leave me alone."

"Makes you feel strong. Invincible. A big bad wolf in a world of little pigs."

"No. You're wrong, Dean."

"It's more than that, isn't it? It's because your whole life you've felt…different. Am I right?"

"Stop," Sam pleaded.

"I hit a little close to home, huh? Not different because you were some lonely kid or because your weirdo family."

"Stop it," Sam commanded.

"Because you're a monster."

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"You were always a monster. And you only feel right when you're sucking down more poison and more evil!" He leaned down. "Monster, Sam. Monster. I tried so hard to pretend that we were brothers. But you were one of the filthy things that we hunt. We're not even the same species. You're nothing to me."

"Don't say that to me. Don't you say that to me." Sam turned his head and Dean had vanished, Sam left alone in the room.

The shaking got worse and Sam didn't know if it was because of what he had heard from his father and his brother or if he was withdrawing from the blood. Without even realizing it, Sam shook himself off the bed onto the floor, then fell into a full-blown seizure. He flopped around like a fish out of water, gasping for breath, unaware of where he was or what was happening. His head bounced off the concrete floor until he no longer could stay conscious, however his body kept moving a few minutes longer. Suddenly, Sam lay still on the floor, blood coming out of his mouth after he had bitten his tongue.

It had been four hours since Dean had checked on Sam, despite his urges to go down every five minutes to make sure he was okay. Something felt _off_, though. He felt his stomach drop with a bad feeling. He raced out of the room he was staying and flew down the stairs. He worked the door open as quickly as he could and stared in horror at what was in front of him.

"Sammy!" Dean cried out. He put his fingers to Sam's neck, finding a slow and thready, but still beating pulse. "God, fuck. I knew I should have come down to check on you sooner." He grabbed the sheet on the bed and tore a strip off, using it to clean Sam's mouth so that Dean could see where the damage was. He didn't see any cuts on Sam's lip. He opened Sam's mouth to see the teeth marks in his tongue. It looked like it had stopped bleeding for the time being, but Sam wasn't responding. "Bobby!" Dean hollered. "Get down here! Bobby! Now!"

Bobby came running down the stairs and into the panic room, looking at Sam's current state.

"We need to get him to a hospital." Bobby stared at Sam, frozen. "Now!"

"What are we going to tell them, Dean? That he was detoxing from demon blood?"

Dean paused only for a moment. "We'll just tell them he was detoxing from alcohol. Now, let's move!" Dean picked Sam up in his arms – damn, Sam was heavy – and carried him upstairs, letting Bobby lead to his car. Dean maneuvered Sam into the car and sat in back with him while leaving Bobby to drive. All he way to the hospital, Dean softly called to Sam, trying to get Sam to answer him. His hand rested on Sam's chest to reassure him that Sam's heart was still beating and he was still breathing. Without any warning, Sam's breathing grew raspy and it sounded like he was having trouble getting air. Dean tried to open Sam's mouth to see what was blocking his windpipe, to find his tongue had swollen. Sam's breath grew shallower as Dean tried to clear his airway. Dean knew what was going to happen, and in short order, Sam had stopped breathing, just as Bobby pulled into the ambulance bay. Bobby ran into the ER to get help while Dean tried to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation. He could still feel Sam's heart beating, growing slower by the second. Suddenly, he pulled away from Sam as a team of nurses and EMTs got Sam out of the car as quickly and carefully as possible, putting him on a stretcher. Dean ran behind them, shouting details of what had been happening. He got as far as the nurses station when he was told that he wasn't allowed any further. Dean smashed his hand against the desk in frustration. He went out to the waiting room as directed to fill out the paperwork that he had become all too familiar with. He had to check the name on the insurance card before he finished the paperwork to make sure they were using the correct name. He handed the paperwork to the admissions clerk and went back to the waiting room.

It was an hour and a half before anyone came out to talk to them. "How's Sam?" Dean asked anxiously.

The doctor shook his head minutely. "He's holding his own, for the time being. But he's nowhere near out of the woods yet. Just how much alcohol was he drinking?"

Dean had been thrown by the question initially, then remembered their story. "A lot. More than I think he admitted to me." Dean ran his hand through his hair. "Can I see him? Please, I need to see him."

The doctor nodded and brought him back to Sam's room. "He's only going to be down here a few minutes longer. We're sending him up to ICU soon."

Dean shuddered when he heard the word "ICU". He'd spent even more time in ICUs than in waiting rooms and he didn't really know which was worse. He opened the door slowly to find Sam on a ventilator and monitoring leads attached to just about every part of his body. He sat down wearily on the chair in the room and brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes. "God damn it, Sammy. Was it worth it? Huh? Was it really worth all this shit?" He ran his hand over his face, tears brimming but not falling. "Sammy," Dean croaked out. "Sammy, you gotta wake up. I can't…you can't die again. I take back everything I've said, all the grief I've given you. I don't care why. I need you back."

Sam lay there silently, the _whoosh-click-swish_ of the ventilator counting out Sam's breaths. Dean never thought they'd be here. He never, during this whole year, saw this coming. And now that it was here, he was at its mercy.

The nurse came to transport Sam up to the ICU and Dean followed. He refused to be separated from his brother, even when the ICU nurses insisted that he needed to be settled in. "No," Dean answered with a gruff voice. "I'm not going anywhere." Even threats of security didn't deter him. "This is my only brother, the only family I have left in the entire world and I'm not leaving him alone. You'll have to physically remove me from the room. Anyone want to try?" That got the staff to leave him alone, working around him and trying to keep him as calm as they could.

Dean sat in the chair, next to Sam as he had done far too many times. "Sammy, you gotta wake up for me." His hand rested over Sam's heart, not trusting the machines to prove what Dean needed to feel for himself.

Bobby arrived in the room and took in Dean's appearance. He had never seen the young man look so devastated and disheveled. "Dean," he said softly. "Come with me. Come to the house, get some food, take a shower. Please."

"I'm not leaving here until Sam's ready to be discharged. I did this to him, and I won't leave him alone for the rest of it."

"Dean, you did what you needed to do."

"NO!" Dean shouted. "I. This shouldn't have happened."

"This isn't your fault, Dean."

"Like hell it's not." Dean bowed his head. "Sam has always given his all for me, to me, even when I didn't want him to. Maybe if I had let him…," Deans's voice trailed off.

"Sam made his own choices."

"Sam was forced into those choices, because of a choice I selfishly made."

"You can't blame yourself…"

"I sure as hell can! I will never forgive myself for what happened down there and I will never forgive myself for leaving Sam alone up here."

Bobby moved towards the door, at a loss for what else to say. "Give me a call when you're ready to leave."

Dean nodded and watched Bobby leave the room.

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Dean didn't leave Sam's room for a second. He used the bathroom inside the room, he ate the meals that were supposed to be for Sam. The staff basically left him alone and to his own devices.

For a week, Sam lay unresponsive. Dean begged and pleaded with Sam, prayed and called on Castiel, all to no avail.

"Help him Cas. Please."

"I cannot. This is an area out of my expertise."

"Saving people?" Dean said incredulously.

"No. Humans infected with demon blood."

"It's got to be gone by now. He's been without it over a week."

"The blood will always taint Sam's soul. With that taint, I am not allowed to help him."

"Fuck you. Get the hell out of this room." Dean was so angry he could have punched Castiel. He knew it would get him nowhere, that Castiel wouldn't even hurt, but that attitude was one he could live without.

Sam could be redeemed. Sam _would_ be redeemed. Dean was going to make sure of that. Before he died, Sam would be saved.

Dean barely slept while he was there, closing his eyes only when it was impossible to keep them open and then never for very long. There was always activity, even if it wasn't Sam, around him, enough to keep him from sleeping. Dean knew this was a hazard, that there was no way he could be on the top of his game like this, but he didn't need to be. He just needed to be _here_.

As Dean began to doze off this time around, he heard someone choking and thrashing. He forced his eyes open to see Sam trying to pull the tube out of his mouth. Dean bolted up out of the chair. "No, Sam! Don't!" Sam stopped pulling at the tube but couldn't stop thrashing. Dean reached for the call button, but the nurses had already seen the spikes in his vital signs alerting them that he was now conscious.

"Sam, take it easy," one of the nurses told him. "Breathe normally. We'll take the tube out in a minute, once you've calmed down."

Once Sam had been able to calm down, the medical staff was able to remove the tube from Sam's throat and initially gasped as sweet, pure air rushed into his lungs.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was rough and raspy after a long time of not being used.

"Shh, Sam. Don't talk. Just rest."

Sam shook his head. "How long have I been here?"

"Nine days," Dean answered. He looked down at the floor. "God damn it, Sam. So fucking scared. Why did you do this? Huh?"

"Can we please not get into this right now?"

Dean sighed and relented. "This is it, Sam. This is the last time we go through anything like this. Ten days ago was the last time you let this poison in your body. I don't care if I have to physically restrain you, you are not sucking another drop."

Sam nodded. "I know. It's gone now. I can feel it gone."

"We'll do this, Sam. You and me, together. We'll do this."

Sam nodded. They would find a new way to finish Lilith. Together.


End file.
